


Empty Space

by EllieL



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alderaan, Coping, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:57:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: Han has taken Leia to finally confront some memories of home.For the October 2019 HanLeia Challenge prompt "haunting."





	Empty Space

Han poured two drams of whiskey into the tumblers, then looked at them for a moment, and made it a double. Cautiously, he left the narrow galley and headed back to the cockpit. The hatch was still open, and his wife was still sitting where he’d left her half an hour ago, staring out at the debris field from the safety of the pilot’s seat. 

She didn’t turn as he crossed the space between them, but she knew he was there, and didn’t startle as he sat the glass down on the console in front of her. As he wordlessly settled into the copilot’s seat, his eyes left her only long enough to skim the sensor readouts, making sure the shields were still running at full power. Satisfied, his gaze returned to her, though hers did not flicker over to him. She hadn’t cried, that he’d seen, didn’t look like she’d been crying in his absence either, and he second guessed his decision to give her a little time on her own. 

Movement out the cockpit viewscreen caught his attention, and they both watched as an X-wing-sized piece of debris whirled past. As his gaze returned to her, a shiver ran through her, and she reached without looking for the tumbler and downed the whiskey in one swallow. Only then did she turn to him, unshed tears sparkling in the dim light. 

“I wonder what that was.” Leia’s voice was raspy, deeper than usual.

He didn’t know what to say, hadn’t known what to say since they’d arrived at the debris field that used to be the orbit of Alderaan. He tried to stay quiet, as she’d been, and not put his foot in his mouth. She hadn’t wanted to talk, not since they’d plugged the coordinates into the navicomputer, and he’d been happy to not have to find the right words. Now, he merely took a sip of his own whiskey before settling the remainder on the console and pushing it her way.

She took it and swirled the amber liquid, studying it for a moment before looking back out at the space in front of them and sipping this offering more delicately than the last. “I wonder what all of this used to be, when it was home. Was that a chunk of Appenza peak or a boulder from the sea floor or a piece of the foundations from Aldera palace? Any of these pieces could be any of those things. I’d never know.” 

Tapping his fingers on the edge of the seat, the silence hung for a moment before he asked, “What would you do if you knew?”

Shrugging, she shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s not as if I could take it home, even if I looked out there and saw my mother’s crown floating past.”

“We could though.”

“What?” She finally turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Could get a piece of something, if it was close enough, or not too much other debris around. Falcon’s got a tractor beam.” He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it, but never would have dared suggest it, never would have done anything like that without her permission. It probably wasn’t entirely legal, either--the site was a Galactic Memorial--but she was the last Princess of Alderaan, so he doubted anyone would protest. 

“Oh.” She seemed to consider the idea as she stared out at the debris field whirling through space. Slowly, she turned back to face him, shaking her head. “I already carry it with me. I don’t need….” Her voice, already quiet, trailed off to nothingness, and he finally saw a tear tracking down her cheek.

Sliding from his chair, he knelt on the floor in front of her, thumb brushing away the tear as his other hand rested on her knee. She sniffled a little, and closed her eyes, blocking out the remains of her home outside. 

“What do you want?” he asked, barely loud enough to hear himself.

For a few minutes, she was quiet, tipping forward to rest her head on his shoulder. But he eventually felt her tilt her face up, gazing out the viewscreen once more. He stayed silent as his hands traced slow spirals on her back.

“I don’t need, or want, a piece of debris,” she said carefully as she eventually straighted in the pilot’s seat. “You already gave me a piece of Alderaan to carry with me.”

Their fingers tangled together as his hands caught her left, touching the ring of Alderaanian moonstone he’d given her three years ago when he’d proposed. It glowed now, luminous in the electric glare of the cabin lights. She’d told him once, late at night, of a moonstone diadem she’d been given by her parents for her fourteenth birthday. Leia only spoke of her home in the small hours of the night, or at official meetings. It had taken him by surprise when she’d asked him to bring her here, after waking in the middle of the night, and he’d not agreed until she’d reiterated the desire over breakfast the next morning.

“Everyone feels the loss, of family, of home. But their last memories are of waving goodbye to their families, of knowing they’d always return safely to them, to a safe beautiful home.”

She worried her lower lip, and he waited, stroking the back of her left hand with his thumb.

“For my last two years, I always wondered if my departure would be for the last time. I knew it was a dangerous game I was playing, knew I’d be killed if I was caught, if Father was caught. But we never thought, never dreamed…. Everyone else has last vision of Alderaan fading, brilliant blue, behind them as they flew away. I’m haunted by that brilliance exploding into empty space.”

She stared out the viewscreen, as he stared at her. Then he rose carefully and stretched a hand out to her. Without looking, she took it, let him pull her along with him into the copilot’s seat, curling into his lap and finally looking away from the remains of her home world. She tucked her head into the curve of his neck, warm breath tickling his skin and tears soaking through his worn shirt. There was nothing he could say to take away her horrific final memory of Alderaan, so he just held her, hands tracing slowly up and down her back.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and pulled back, and he helped her twist to look out again at the space in front of them. One of her hands gripped his bicep, tightening until he stilled the movement of his own hands.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” She turned again, and kissed his temple. “I needed to see it. But I don’t think I need to come back here again. There’s nothing here for me.”

“It’s still here, you know,” he said as he tilted his head to kiss her forehead. 

For the first time since they’d made the hyperjump, she smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“You ready to go then?”

Casting one long look out over the unrecognizable pieces of her former home, she nodded. “Yes, let’s go home.”

He urged her up off his lap, but remained in the copilot’s seat. “Do the honors, Princess.” He rarely called her that anymore, but it suddenly seemed fitting, and he did it without any of the irony he’d once infused into it.

With a deep breath, she settled into the pilot’s seat and her hands found the controls, firing up the systems that had been in standby and dealing with the navicomputer as she waited for everything to come online. He watched her competence with his ship, hitting the necessary buttons without needing to think. They’d both found a new home since the last time they passed through this space.

She took one last look at the golden glow of Alderaan’s star, before maneuvering the Falcon away from the debris field. Her hand only hesitated for a second before she pulled the lever for the jump away, into hyperspace, towards home.


End file.
